


Wretched Machinery

by TeaLeafv



Category: NieR: Automata (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I promise 9S will get some smooches, Nightmares, Possible Eventual Smut, description of illness, let him take a nap, sub 9S
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25024741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaLeafv/pseuds/TeaLeafv
Summary: -Zombie Apocalypse AU-When his friends are killed, 9S is left alone to fend for himself in a world of danger. After being violently robbed of his supplies, he's rendered useless by injury and illness until he's rescued by a mysterious group.Tags are subject to change
Relationships: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to practice writing action sequences more and it turned into a zombie apocalypse AU ~  
> I'm not very familiar with this type of writing so be gentle lol

9S can hear breathing.

It’s pained, heavy, and elevating with every inhale, speeding itself to an impossible pace. He can feel a familiar warmth on his hands, one that’s wet and sticky and emitting an overwhelming smell that makes his throat clench involuntarily. His head spins with the combined nausea of the reverberating breathing and warm sensation on his skin, splattered along the front of his chest and thighs, and he can’t seem to focus on anything besides the voice in the back of his head telling him to press his hands down.

Keep pressing down on it

Keep putting pressure on it

He’s gonna be fine, just keep pressing down

The breathing suddenly becomes more grating against his head as it whistles into a wheeze accompanied with the sound of bubbling liquid. His hands flex, fluids oozing between his fingers, pooling in the crevices of his knuckles as it builds into the space between his hand and the surface below him. 

He still can’t see anything, head spinning through the black space around him. His fingers begin to go numb, white knuckle flexing cutting off his circulation just as a sharp wave of liquid pulsates between his hands with a jolt, splattering onto the bare skin of his face, creeping in between his lips, into his closed eyes, covering his nostrils with its putrid metallic smell. A bile rises up in his throat and his fixation on what’s beneath him breaks as he fights to swallow it back down. The breathing is deafening now. It throbs against the backs of his eyes, breaks through his ear drums, flashes hot white through his blinded vision.

Clammy hands clasp tightly around his wrists, pulling and forcing his hands to press back down on the oozing ground below. He struggles against them, his wrists growing numb from cut circulation. The voice in his head is screaming at him now,

Keep pressing down!

Save him!

Save him!

SAVE HIM!

9S awoke in a cold sweat. He lay still for a moment, waiting for his frantic and ragged breathing to settle down as he clutched at his shaking hands, the phantom sensation of the warm liquid still present on his skin. Letting out a shaky sigh, he pressed his hands to his chest and closed his eyes. They burned with the sign of oncoming tears. Feeling a harsh cough coming, he sat up to empty his throat of gunk, chest convulsing with each heave. Feeling dizzy at this, he fell back into his makeshift bed, a pile of blankets crammed into the car seat of his van, his body temperature feeling uncomfortably hot against the thin sheets.

Shit…

The tears pricking his eyes began to fall as the contents of his dream came back to him.

32S and 42S, his best friends.

He hadn’t been able save them.

They bled so much after the attack. No matter how much pressure he put down he couldn’t get it to stop. He had been able to feel their heartbeats, the way the blood pushed out in waves to the rhythm of their bodies. Their hearts slowed, their breathing slowed, the blood flow fell to a steady stream. 

They had been staring at him the whole time. Their eyes were begging him to save them and all he could do was press down on their wounds as his senses numbed through panic.  
They died with their eyes on him.

The chilling feeling of their blood pumping through his fingertips during his desperate attempt to stop the flow is one he hasn’t been able to forget.

As he sloppily wiped his eyes, he sat up the best he could and peered out the window, noting that the sun was about to rise before another dizzy spell hit him. 9S resigned himself to sitting up against the window of the van, his legs lazily sprawled out along the length of the backseat as he waited for the dizziness to pass. Beads of sweat covered the length of his body as he shivered against the hard backrest. 

It had been less than a week since he came down with a fever that’s rendered him nearly useless, a week more since he had lost his friends. His entire body feels like it’s burning against cold ice and his movements pain him, pounding against his head like a sledgehammer to the backs of his eyes. He leaned his head back as he felt a pressure in his stomach and his throat tightened on instinct. Shutting his eyes tightly, he began to dry heave, chest convulsing painfully against his aching body. He knew nothing would come up, he hadn’t been able to keep food down for days and had since surrendered eating as to not waste his dwindling supply.

With a heavy heave of his chest, he felt the usual thin trail of stomach acid burn against his throat before he swallowed it down and let out a long exhale while his stomach eased. The remaining acid burned against the back of his throat and nose, and he dirtied his hand with a sloppy wipe against his mouth and nostrils, sticky substance trailing between when he removed his hand.

9S’s hand fell to his side in exhaustion as his body went limp against the uncomfortable angle of the car. His ragged breathing resonated through his body as he leaned his head back against the cold window, a halfhearted cough clearing his throat for only a brief moment.

What would he do if he was found? He had done his best to push the van into a well-covered area among the shallow forest surrounding him after it had run out of gas, but in his current state he wouldn’t be able to defend himself. He had had some close calls in the past few days, but his fever hadn’t struck nearly as hard then. Now he could barely give himself the strength to just keep watch.

An unbearable pressure built itself up in his head and he shut his eyes, willing his coughing to seize so that he may rest for a moment.

For just a moment…

The sound of cracking leaves awoke him from his stupor.

Footsteps…

How long had he been out?

The footsteps sounded close, was his van in sight?

Cursing under his breath, he sat up the best he could, shaking hands reaching under the seat for the baseball bat he kept by him.

He froze as the footsteps came closer. They were too even to be them, and he could hear voices. 

Humans, at least two… he thought to himself, shit…

In some ways other humans could be more dangerous than them.

He tightened his grip in the handle of the bat through the violent shaking in his hands, sweat on his palms making it hard to keep a solid grasp as the shaking found its way through the rest of his body. The voices came closer and he choked on a cough, holding it through shut lips as to not make a sound. The cough came with dizziness, and suddenly he couldn’t tell where the voices were coming from. His head swam as the sound of the footsteps and talking seemed to circle around the van. His vision struggled to catch up while he looked around.

This is bad

His breath caught as he was finally able to make out words from the wandering voices, he couldn’t see anything, he couldn’t focus on anything,

“Jesus, it fucking stinks in here,”

9S froze entirely. When had the door to the van opened?

“Oh? What’s this?” a second voice chided in.

9S looked up blearily, his vision finally caught up to him and he immediately tensed at the sight of two men standing in the doorway of his van. They were wearing masks over their mouths and noses, but he could still hear their words muffled though the material.

With a gasp he thrust his bat forward, kicking his legs in front of him until his back pressed all the way against the window, putting as much distance between him and the men as he could in a fit of panic. The baseball bat trembled visibly between them and the first man let out a gruff laugh.

“Well look at that!”

9S let out a small cry as a hand thrust itself towards him, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling him away from the window. The bat fell away from his clammy grip easily, “You look half dead boy, not too different from those beasts out there,”

The second man made a noise of disgust as leaned down to check the floors of the van, “you just been sittin’ in here covered in piss or something?” The man’s hands found 9S’s backpack and ripped open the zipper.

“D-Don’t-“ 9S tried to intervene, but the tightening grip and quick jostle of his collar advised against it. He swallowed hard against the man’s bony knuckles as they grated against his throat. The man’s other hand came to grab his jaw, jerking 9S’s head to face him with fluttering eyelids, “Listen, you’re gonna let us do some spring cleaning here and then we’ll be on our way, and you’re not gonna not act up” the man threatened. A whine spilled out of 9S’s throat in agreement as tears pricked his eyes, his shaking breath catching on the heavy lumps of gunk lodged in his lungs. Choking on a breath, his body involuntarily shuddered with a ragged cough, spittle spewing from his lips, squished together between the man’s fingers. It shot onto the man’s face, beads sticking to his mask and around his eyes. 9S felt his body go cold, raked with shivers of sick as the man narrowed his eyes, grip on his collar tightening.

“Fucking gross,” he muttered. Against his will, 9S’s chest began to heave once again as it tried to dispel the remaining litter, the ever tightening grip on his shirt was making it difficult to breathe and his hands shot up instinctively, grabbing at the wrists of the offender instinctively.

“You know what?” The man said with an irritated sigh, looking 9S up and down briefly.

9S let out a startled cry as the man let go of his face and stepped back out of the car, roughly dragging him forward. He turned his head to the other man, still rummaging through things in the bottom of the van. 9S could see his short food supply now in their possession. 

“Keep digging around, this kid’s irritating me,”

“Whatever you say man,”

Before he could even resist, 9S felt his body hurled off of his seat and into the open, his body hitting the ground sharply. He could barely register what had just happened as his ears began to ring, the usual pounding headache returning to torment him. He tried to get up, but his limbs wouldn’t stop shaking. His fingers grasped at dirt and he finally curled in on himself, barely hearing the harsh footsteps coming towards him through his buzzing head. His body was harshly flipped over on his back and he barely had time to look up before a heavy impact on his cheek had his vision swimming in black. Before his mind could catch up, he felt another impact, and then another. The sensation of blood pooling in his mouth made him nauseous as the metallic smell overloaded his senses. With another impact he suddenly couldn’t feel his body, only the burning of blood mixing with the disgusting bile in his nose, cascading down the side of his face. It tasted terrible in his mouth, and it bubbled against the back of his throat when he tried to breathe. With a cough he could feel it spilling down along his jaw through the corners of his mouth. One last blow left him thoughtless as his entire body went limp. He felt his eyes lazily roll back into his skull as his head fell to the side, dirt sticking to his bloodied face. His chest convulsed as he struggled to find air through the shock of what was happening. 

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t fight back. The days of sickness and hunger had finally caught up to him, building and churning up and through his throat in the form of a sick bile. Unable to find the strength to hold it back this time, the bile fell, mixing into the pooling blood in a putrid acidic solution on the ground. The overwhelming stench combined with the nausea of his short breathiness blinded his senses, and he finally found himself slipping into unconsciousness through his numbing body.

/ / / / / / / / 

A familiar dream came to him then. The deafening breathing, wet shaking hands, hyperventilation, feeling of helplessness.

He can’t do it.

He can’t save them.

He’s going to die.

He doesn’t want to die.

He doesn’t want to die.

He doesn’t want to die-

The first thing that he could register was the pain in his head. Unable to see, eyes glued shut with dried tears and gunk, his foggy mind lagged as he grasped that he’d passed out. Nose completely clogged with mucus, he let out shallow shaky breathes through his mouth, feeling a sharp ache in his chest.

Still alive… he thought to himself as he willed his body to move.

He was laying on his back, and barely succeeded in rolling himself over with a weak attempt to move, whimpering through the movements that caused his entire body to ache. Although his face was burning numb, he could feel where his cheeks were swelling against his skin, both eyes swelling nearly closed making it difficult to see. Laying on his stomach for a moment, he began to dry heave, nothing but a few strings of stomach acid and mucus falling and sticking to his chin. 

He pressed his swollen cheek into the ground, it felt awfully hot against the cool dirt. As he willed his eyes to open as much as they could, he could barely make out his van in front of him. The door was still thrown open and the two men were nowhere to be seen. He began to feebly kick his legs in an attempt to crawl closer towards the van, but pain raked his body with every jerk. Arms trembling, he stretched them outwards and placed his palms flat on the ground. He cried out quietly as he attempted to push his body up, elbows shaking as his torso lifted from the dirt. A rough cough had him falling into his elbows, and he sighed in relief when he was able to catch himself.

It’s not that far, he thought to himself, I can do it,

His encouraging train of thought was ruptured at a rustling sound and a hiss coming from the forest behind him. He immediately froze at the noise. He suddenly wondered how long had he been unconscious.

What time was it?

Panicked, he forced his eyes open a little more, and his blood ran cold at the realization that it was dark outside.

Shit, shit

His breathing sped up when the noises multiplied, coming from multiple directions behind him. It was a distinct sound, a guttural grumbling sound accompanied with a hiss, like the sound of a machine releasing steam. He could hear something that sounded like metal scraping against metal, confirming his fears. The sound of them.

He thought he had parked the van in a well-hidden place. Had they smelled the blood?

His legs began kicking frantically as the sounds came closer to him, willing his body to move through the pain, begging for the adrenaline to kick in.

Glancing back over his shoulder, he could barely make out the figures that had approached out of the bushes, humans grotesquely fused with machinery. The combination of human-like groans and sounds of broken systems were terrifying, suffering through the clashing sounds of various beeps, alarms, and hissing. 9S’s breathing grew frantic as images of what had happened to his friends flashed through his mind. Their stomachs ripped open; innards strewn along their laps, bits of machinery embedded into their flesh.

He had to move. He had to survive.

He had to survive for them.

A sudden tight grip on his ankle had him screaming. He felt his chest scrape along the grass as he was roughly jerked back, frantically kicking his other leg behind him. His ankle trembled underneath the bruising grip, the cold semi metallic sensation of his attacker’s touch sending a chill through his entire body. As he violently fought to turn his body around, he felt a numbing pop in his ankle, and a burning pain shot through the entire lower half of his leg. 

In a state of mental shock, he didn’t even have the energy left to cry out. All he could do was breathe through wet hiccuping breathes as he pathetically choked back sobs. 

He barely had time to register the pain in his leg before the sound of a resonating gunshot induced complete silence. 

With the sound of another shot, he felt the grip on his leg disappear followed by the sound of his attacker’s body hit the ground.

Two figures suddenly threw themselves in front of him, blocking off the oncoming beasts from him. From their blurry silhouettes he could see that they were human.

They immediately began firing at the beasts, 9S could hear bullets hitting both flesh and metal as the beasts made disgusting groaning sounds. He could hear bodies hit the floor; some began to retreat.

Through the firing, one of the figures turned towards him, briefly lifting their mask from their face,

“Hey there! Are you alright?” the figure said in a sweet feminine voice, a friendly demeanor not at all fitting of the gun carnage that was taking place.

“Focus, 6O,” the other figure called out in a low gruff as she continued to fire at the forest.

The girl pulled her mask back on after flashing a quick smile at 9S and resumed in helping her partner.

9S could feel the exhaustion making its way back into his body and he stopped being able to focus on what was happening as his senses overloaded.

He hadn’t even noticed that the gunshots had stopped and the two women that had intercepted were now crouched down staring directly at him, shaking him awake through his stupor.

“Hey,” the woman with the lower voice lightly tapped his cheek with the palm of her hand, to which he whimpered and flinched from as his swollen cheek stung sharply on contact.

“Be gentle 2B,” the other woman, 6O he presumed, complained, “he’s hurt badly, I think he has a fever.”

“We have to get moving,” 2B said, “can you get him standing?”

“his ankle…” 6O sighed.

9S’s shaky gaze found itself traveling to his leg, the one that the beast had grabbed. He shook when it came into view. His bloodied ankle sported various shades of black and blue, and he let out trembling breathes when he saw his foot laying at a sickeningly unnatural angle. The pain in his leg finally caught up to him them, and his vision began to blacken as he became overwhelmed.

“Kid?” 6O’s voice suddenly sounded so far away. 

“Hey kid!”

He opened his mouth to respond but quickly collapsed in another feverish wave.


	2. Chapter 2

Voices,

“Are you sure it’s okay to keep him here?”

“What are you talking about?”

“That fever, 6O, you know that’s an early symptom.”

“We’ll monitor him, don’t worry. What, you want to just throw him out in this condition?”

Silence.

More silence.

9S twitched his eyes as they were bothered by a sharp fluorescent light. He could still feel them swelling, but with some effort he was able to open them nearly all the way.

“A-ah…” he let out a breath, flinching against the dull ache that still resided in his body.

The two women immediately turned towards him, they were completely unmasked now, in casual clothing that contrasted with the heavy getup he had initially seen them in.

“Kid!” the one with blonde hair exclaimed. Her hair was pulled into twin braids that lay over her shoulders, swaying as she rushed to crouch by 9S.

“Keep your distance,” the other warned. Her short cropped white hair nearly blended in with the aggressively bright lighting in the room. 

Looking around, 9S could gather that he was in some kind of basement, ugly concrete walls covered in grime emit an odd smell, and the room was filled with miscellaneous supplies and boxes. As he shifted uncomfortably, he found himself unable to move his arms. Looking down, his breath left him as his body, covered in tight chains, came into view. He gasped as he struggled against the restraints, his breath hitching.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” 6O said softly, “You’re fine,”

“L-let me go,” 9S whimpered, kicking his free legs. He stopped when he noticed his ankle. The appendage that he had once seen at such a painful angle was straight again, wrapped in thick white bandages, and the pain had diminished significantly, “my ankle?”

“Dislocated,” the woman still standing, 2B he guessed, said sharply, “you were very lucky it wasn’t broken.”

“It’s still pretty torn up though so be gentle on it,” 6O chimed in.

“Why am I tied up?” 9S questioned through sharp breaths.

“Your fever,” 2B replied, “it’s an early symptom of the transformation so we have to make sure you haven’t been infected. Once it breaks, you’ll be in the clear to join the rest of us upstairs.”

“The rest of you?”

6O stood up from her crouched position, “We’re a safehouse! Well, as safe as you can get right now. We filled out some abandoned private school and have set up camp here, those gates up front are pretty sturdy.”

“Oh, I see,” 9S muttered, looking down at the chains again. They were digging uncomfortable into his skin and he shuffled against them in hope of some kind of relief on his ribs.

“We know it’s uncomfortable but please just bear with it for now, we can’t take even the slightest of risks right now,” 6O reassured him.

He understood, he really did, but he couldn’t keep from shaking. He was terrified. Having just suffered such a traumatic attack, being ripped away from the place he had just gotten used to calling home, he was suddenly in an unfamiliar place, chained up in a basement with people he didn’t even know if he could trust yet. His whole body still hurt, and he was terrified.

Noticing his distress, 2B walked towards him and crouched in front of him, still keeping a distance from him, “I understand it’s scary, but it’ll be okay,” she said in a hushed voice. It was incredibly awkward contrasting with her previously cold atmosphere, but 9S could tell that she meant it. She was a nice person. “how are you feeling?”

It was such a simple question that heeded a straightforward answer, but 9S felt emotions overflowing at the phrase and found himself unable to hold back the stream of tears that began falling down his face. 

How long had it been since he’d been asked that? 

He had held up by himself, completely alone for weeks with nobody to talk to, nobody to encourage him and tell him that things would be okay. His best friends had died under his watch and he’d dealt with it silently all this time. He tried to breathe steadily but it only made his sobs audible, and when he looked at 2B’s expression he felt embarrassed.

“I-I’m sorry I…” 9S bit his lip and looked away, trying to stifle his sniffles. His lower lip trembled as he spoke, “my friends are dead,” he choked out before finding himself completely unable to hold his emotions back, bursting through his mental barricades and he broke out into a full sob.

He curled in on himself, the chains cut into his chest and hurt every time he heaved but he couldn’t stop. He felt a hand on his back, rubbing in quick circles.

“I miss them so much,” he sobbed through thick breaths. Another hand came to his back, 6O had come over as well. Out of breath, his sobs diminished into small whimpers as he sat with his head hung, body jerking with hiccups every so often. As he started to calm down, he looked back up to find himself facing 2B, her eyes showing sympathy. There was something endearing about her gaze, sharp eyes that showed a hint of softness. Her hand brushed along his back and found its place on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. 

“You should get some sleep,” she said, “you’ll tire yourself out,”

6O was the first to stand, “It’s super early in the morning right now so we should all get some rest.” 2B nodded in agreement and stood, her hand lingering slightly before she pulled it up, “we’ll check on you next time you’re awake,” she told him, “what’s your name?”

“9S,”

“Nice to meet you, 9S,”

She turned to walk towards the door that would lead out of the room, but 9S panicked at the thought of being alone right now. The ugly fluorescent lighting, the thick and dirty concrete walls; it was entirely suffocating.

“Wait!” he called out, flinching when they both turned around to face him, finding it hard to meet their gaze, “please don’t leave me alone, please,”

He looked at the ground, embarrassed at how desperate he sounded. There was silence for a while, until 2B spoke up, “we’ll be right back,”

6O smirked at 2B, “keep your distance,” she said in a mocking tone, poking fun at 2B’s new display of softness.

////////////////

2B felt her consciousness stir awake at the faint sound of rattling chains. Upon 9S’s request she 6O had snuck in some pillows and blankets and set up next to 9S to ease his panic. She didn’t quite know why she had agreed. If it had been anybody else, she would’ve just left them for the night, but there was something about 9S that brought out an untapped emotion inside of her. He was so small, so vulnerable, and she wanted him to feel safe.

The muffled rattling continued, accompanied with small gasps that echoed through the room. With a sigh, 2B rolled her body over to face 9S who had fallen asleep, his neck rolled to the side at an awkward angle that he’d surely feel when he woke up due to his confined upright position. Even in the dim lighting she could see his hands visibly twitch, as if they were grabbing for something, and his face was contorted into a look of discomfort. 

Nightmare, huh?

Sitting up, she watched from a distance as his gasps would occasionally slide into whimpers. Her gaze went from his blackened eye, nearly swelling over his entire lid, to the nasty bruising that spread itself across both of his cheeks and down to his neck in concentrated dots. His swollen cheeks pressed against the corners of his mouth, pressing his lips into a pout, and she noted the small but deep gash that ran along his right cheekbone where the skin had spit open; it wasn’t showing signs of clotting over and it would most likely need stitches. He’d obviously been very recently brutalized, and it made her feel sick to her stomach.

A loud gasp and a sudden violent jolt from 9S startled her out of her stupor of sympathy as he was raked by night terrors. The whimpers turned into stifled sobs and his cheeks ran wet with new tears. 2B found herself scooting close to him, unsure of what to do. She had never been one for emotional comfort, but she found herself fretting over him, wanting to do anything she could to help him. 

She glanced at his hands, fingers flexing painfully as his palms glistened with sweat. Her fingertips found themselves grazing his forearm gingerly, pulling back in shock when he flinched away. With a second attempt, his skin accepted her touch, and she could feel his body slowly begin to ease through the tremors. She felt his body begin to lean into her touch, and she gently slid her fingers down, prodding his trembling hand open with her thumb. His fingers moved on their own, each curling around the palm of her hand one by one as she continued to rub gentle circles into his gradually relaxing fingers. His hands felt awfully small inside of hers, hands that shouldn’t have seen such turmoil but are littered with dirty scrapes and cracked fingernails.

As 9S’s body finally eased entirely, she heard a faint and unconscious “thank you,” make its way through his lips.


End file.
